Work Text:
Damn it, where could they be? She spent the whole evening ransacking through this deck and still there was no sign of nicotine in sight.
No ciggies, no vapes, no hookah, nothing, absolutely zilch, it was almost silly!
In her heart of hearts she knew she shouldn't - it was bad for her, the older she gets the worse it is on the lungs, yada-yada-yada and so on. Between Krytena's worrying and Rimmer's long established burning hatred for the smoke, Lister now can recite verbatim a thirty minutes anti-smoking PSA on the spot pretty much. It's just...
Damn, she sighs, shaking her hand off from the dust and grime hidden away in the chute, they're not in here either. This is getting ridiculous, she'll have to get the suit and go check in the paneling on the ship at this tempo.
She wouldn't go for them, she really didn't even want to at this point herself, but with the boys taking on more and more trips on the bug on their own, alone, out there, she just - she can't. She needs a smoke.
Of course she knows they're fully grown adults by now, of course, and they're more than capable of giving a proper twatting to anything that might dare and bother them too. She just can't help but worry sometimes anyways. It's an instinct or something, built in, she can't help it.
And so a secret, discreet smoke where no one will see would be a grand help. It's not like she'd even bother anyone, really! No worrywarts triggered - oh who is she kidding, it's probably the boys themselves who helped hide it all away so well. Jim has always taken after Rimmer in hide and seek...
Lister gets up from the floor, dusts her knees off and starts a very determined jog in the direction of Parrots instead. If she couldn't get even a whiff of nicotine today, God knows at the very least she can get tipsy. Or knackered. Just a tip tho. Just to get the edge away.
You know what? She could even try brandy again. Just to remember how needlessly posh something that is called 'brandy' is. Maybe shake up something with fizz, brandy and lager. Extra-potent fizz, just for the hell of it-
"What the hell...?"
She is considerably closer to Parrots now and unable to ignore the distant, hollow-sounding clunk of music reverbating through the corridor and right into her ears anymore. A sound sadly unforgettable, as she still can't get that tango record looping and looping and looping on repeat out of her head years later.
Damn it. She forgot that this is the deck on which the dreaded Hammond is lovingly stored away, and today is Wednesday. Drinking to a set of cheesy disco and waltz was something even she couldn't pull off without it being a major buzzkill. Well... maybe it's for the better. She shakes her head with a small laugh. Count on Rimmer to keep her sober even when she's not directly intending to.
It was sorta weird though. The song didn't sound like anything that she would usually choose to play...
Against better judgement, her feet carry her closer to the practice hall. Now that she's hearing more of it, the melody is too somber, too slow-paced... almost yearning in a way?
Deb tip-toes up to the hall's opening, peeks into the room and the sight...
Arlene is sat down in front of the small contraption, arms moving deftly between the two rows, one playing the chords and the other hitting the lead melody. Her eyes are closed, foot tapping out the rhythm below the organ, and her whole body is moving fully with the song, entranced. She looks... not peaceful exactly, but harmonious somehow. Like she's letting the music move through her and take all of her emotions on the way out.
Even if Deb wanted to move right now, she'd probably find she wouldn't be able to. The image of Arlene playing combined with the sorrowful notes have irrevocably glued her to that exact spot next to the doorframe.
It hits her in that moment that, actually, she knows this song too.
Rimmer is moving closer to the end of the chorus now, eyebrows pinched and mouth downturned, lip wobbling almost imperceptibly, and Lister decides smeg it all, why not.
"Tonight I dream about fraternity..."
There's a sudden chaotic hit of several keys and Rimmer is looking at her, eyes wide, the cohesive movement of limbs instantly ceasing. Lister just smiles at her with an awkward wave and nods at the Hammond, hoping she'll pick up on it.
It works, thankfully, because a moment and one side eye later the melody resumes from where it was caught off guard, so Lister takes the win and lets the moment carry her further.
"Tonight I say... one day
One day my dreams will be reality
Like Bobby said to me."
The words slip out with ease, gliding along the organ tune and resonating between them. Rimmer meets her eyes now, and then they both open their mouths on the next pace-
"Hey Bobby Marley
Sing something good to me
This world go crazy
It's an emergency!"
Lister is standing closer to her now, both of their voices mixing together in a pleasant duet, her own higher lilt complimenting Rimmer's slightly bassy tone. They keep their eyes on each other, hollow, warm notes carrying the major parts of communication on their own right now.
"Hey Bobby Marle-ey
Sing something good to me~
This world go crazy
It's an emergency!"
And then Arlene does something Deb doesn't expect her to do, and you have to forgive her because it's kinda genuinely surprising when you've known Arlene J. Rimmer for a while - she splits into an actual, honest to God solo of the last, wordless part of the song immediately-
"Wo-oh-oh-oh
Wo-oh-oh-oh oo-ooh
Wo-oh-oh-oh-ah
Wo-o-o-oh-oh ooo-oh~"
It's so raw and full of emotion she's honestly kind of stunned. Rimmer just continues back onto the verse like nothing happened afterwards, not even looking at Deb anymore. Huh.
"Damn..." Lister finds herself saying, for lack of any better words. "Hell, Rimmer, I didn't even know you listened to this one!"
Arlene inclines her head in Deb's direction without breaking the song, still going over the same chords, a wide smirk stretching her mouth now.
"Well, you can't hope to know everything about me, Lister," she sniffs, "even accounting for the regrettable fact that I had to share quarters with you for more than three decades now."
"Yeah, usually it's always 'Pop goes Delius' this and 'Greatest Promo Records' that," Lister smirks back, rolling her eyes to the side. "I didn't expect you to have a smidgeon of actual proper taste, y'know!"
Rimmer's smirk quickly morphs itself downwards. She continues to keep the same chord pattern, staring Deb down for a moment before opening her mouth once more.
Instead of the expected rebuttal though it's some more singing.
"Je ne t'aime plus, mon amour,
Je ne t'aime plus, tous les jours-"
"Oh, hey now!" Deb cuts her off in a fit of giggles, but the music continues on, gratuitous french overlaying the organ now. "Come on, stop that, or I'll be forced to get out the bongos!"
"Don't you dare, lassie!" Rimmer hits the keys aggressively. "I don't want to re-hide them once again, last time was enough!"
"Oh, just like you hid all the cigarettes, aye?"
"Is that what you're sniffling about here for? Honestly, Lister, how many times do we have to go through this now-"
"Yeah, yeah, don't start whinging on me, please. We had, like, a moment here, man, come on!"
"Don't think you can change the subject like that! What will the boys say when they learn you whinged back on the no nicotine deal, hm?"
"The boys," Deb matches her haughty stance with a knowing grin, "will have a fun time learning auntie Arlene posseses half of a taste in music, I think, actually!"
"Do NOT-"
She starts slowly backing away out of the hall and back into the corridor, and then abandons all decorum and just legs it down towards the lifts, barely stifling the laughter as she goes, an incandescent shape following behind her.
Oh well, even if Rimmer catches up at least it was an interesting evening. She'll have to thank ol' Bobby for that.